Never Ever
by limitlesswriting
Summary: When Tommy and Jude's relationship falls apart, will their musical bond be strong enough to overcome it all? One shot songfic


_Disclaimer: I don't own any songs used, nor do I own Instant Star, or any of the characters. _

_**Never Ever**_

_A few questions that I need to know  
How you could ever hurt me so  
_

We'd been together for two years when it happened.

I walked into G-major one night when he was working late with Karma, with some dinner as a surprise—it was his birthday, and I felt bad that he was stuck in the studio with that girl.

I didn't even notice the noise until I walked into the dark empty control room. His voice—I'd know it anywhere—moaning her name, not mine. If it weren't for the fact that he'd left the mic in the recording booth on, I wouldn't have even heard them through the soundproof glass. I probably wouldn't have even figured it out.

But I did.

I clutched the bag of Chinese takeout to my chest, seeking warmth from the heat the containers gave off inside, laughing silently at the irony of it all, trying to stop myself from breaking down and drawing attention from the couple in the dark room across from me, and figuring out what to do next.

_I need to know what I've done wrong  
And how long it's been going on  
_

He always seemed to be there late with her for some reason or another, even more so since he'd proposed two months ago on New Year's Eve. If it wasn't that the beats were off, it was that they needed to work on lyrics, or Darius wanted the song done as soon as possible.

I can't believe I'd never noticed it before. I'd blindly believed him when he'd walk in at night, jumping straight into the shower, saying he was too tired for sex, or anything of the sort. I just figured he was under a lot of stress at work, with his new protégé being so strong-willed and tiresome—it just never occurred to me what she did to him that left him so drained.

I just can't figure out what I did, or didn't do, that made him feel like he needed to turn to her.

What did I do wrong that made him feel like I wasn't enough for him?

_Was it that I never paid enough attention  
Or did I not give enough affection  
_

I'd been busy, endless touring and promoting for the past few years, doing what I loved. We didn't see each other much because of my schedule, but when we did, I never knew anything was wrong.

He knew what it was about—being a superstar meant you had to make sacrifices. I just didn't think I'd have to sacrifice him to live my dream—sort of strange, when you think about the fact that he's the one that gave me my success by producing all of my albums.

I feel like it was my fault—always blowing him off to go travel, get my music out there. Maybe if I had been there—if I had taken the time to show him that I loved him, he wouldn't have done this.

_Not only will your answers keep me sane  
But I'll know never to make the same mistake again  
_

I just want to know why.

I need to know.

I don't want this to happen again. I'd give anything to go back and fix whatever it was that I messed up, that I did wrong. I'd give up music, recording, singing, writing—anything to just have him back.

But we couldn't go back no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I said that I didn't care. It just fell apart.

He told me she reminded him of me when I first came to G-major—so passionate about everything, telling everyone how I wanted it, and not settling for anything less. He said he missed that Jude, the girl he'd fallen in love with—that she had gotten lost somewhere over the past five years.

And really, much as I hated to admit it, he had a point.

I'd learned sometimes it was easier to give in, to do what was expected, and not argue. That it might not be what I wanted, but that in the end, it kept me out of hot water with Darius, and kept me in the studios recording.

I lost the sullen rocker chick image—trading it in just before my 18th birthday for more refined pop music. It was what the fans wanted, what the people buying my records wanted—what Darius wanted.

So I gave it to them, no fights, no grand speeches. I did what they wanted to help my career. And in doing that, I guess I began to lose the man I love.

_You can tell me to my face  
Or even on the phone  
You can write it in a letter  
Either way I've have to know  
_

Tom moved out soon after I caught them. I didn't stick around to confront him that night—I wanted to just forget it, and pretend it never happened. I wanted to go on living in the bubble of happiness that I'd been in before.

But the lo mien noodles and a credit card slip with my name on it spilled across the floor from when I'd dropped the bag as I sprinted from the studios gave it all away.

He knew I knew, and he wasn't going to let me pretend I didn't.

I still had to work with him. He was still contracted as my producer through the next two albums I did with G-Major..

To be blunt, it sucked.

It was awkward, neither of us looking at the other, both running for the parking lot as fast as we could at five, not caring about how the song we'd worked on sounded.

We'd lost that bond that made us so great, the bond that had made the music we made so fantastic. He'd always been my inspiration. Almost every song I'd ever written had some small part of him in it.

But after it all came crashing down, I turned to prewritten songs—I couldn't do it. Laying my heart on the line, letting him see how upset I was couldn't happen. I wouldn't let it.

_Did I never treat you right  
Did I always start the fight  
_

I should have seen it, looking back on it all.

We got into endless fights over my music, how I was turning commercial.

It wasn't a surprise that he didn't like it, in retrospect. He always made it known that when I gave into Darius, he felt I was 'compromising my musical integrity.'

I just laughed at him, telling him that it didn't matter, and no one important cared if I was or wasn't. I figured he'd understand, what with BoyzAttack being his first claim to fame—if anything had 'sell-out' stamped all over it, it was that boy band.

I'd been wrong though, and I blatantly said that his opinion—the one that should have been the most important to me, above any others—was stupid, and inconsequential.

I'd let him down, and done nothing but laugh in his face about the entire ordeal, and he put up with that for so long.

I guess the difference between Tommy and BoyzAttack, and my transformation reminiscent of Jewel's comeback, was that he chose to leave that—he realized he was selling out, and he did something about it.

I just sat there and took all the pretty dresses and jewelry the labels would throw at the newest pop princess, forgetting what I had set out to do when I won Instant Star—to break the mold, and bring substance back to the business.

_Either way I'm going out of my mind  
All the answers to my questions I have to find  
_

He'd refused to stay with me, even when I begged.

He walked in that night, and packed a bag, telling me that he'd be back for his stuff the next day, and that I could keep the condo we'd purchased a few months ago, with all the furniture.

He did what every guy is supposed to do, but doesn't when they cheat—he knew he'd screwed up, and nothing could change that, and he was the one at fault.

But I didn't want that. I wanted the man who would ignore it—pretend it hadn't happened, that he was still safe.

I chased after him, grabbing him as he made it across the living room, following him downstairs after he shook his arm free of my grasp.

I remember begging, pleading with him to stay as he strode across the parking lot towards his Viper, me two steps behind him, clutching at his hand, trying to stop him.

He stayed silent the entire time, not even looking at me as he drove off, his eyes trained on the road instead of my figure, sobbing, laying on the cool pavement in the middle of the night.

_My head's spinning  
Boy, I'm in a daze  
I feel isolated  
Don't want to communicate  
_

I can still remember the feel of it against my bare skin, the pain from the rough surface assuring me that it wasn't a dream—a nightmare—that I'd soon wake up from, Tommy back in my arms, up in our warm bed.

The image of his taillights turning out of the lot, leaving me behind as he sped off is forever seared into my brain, playing itself out over and over, night after night.

I didn't even bother going back. I just called G-Major's car service, and had it take me to the nearest hotel—only for the night, I assured myself. Tomorrow everything would go back to normal.

I'd go home, back to our home, and he'd be there, waiting for me, not with boxes for his belongings, but with flowers or something. What normal men did when they cheated—the ones that tried to buy back the affection of their partner with flowers and candy and expensive jewelry.

But it hadn't gone back to normal. I was dropped off by the black sedan the next morning to a house full of boxes, Tommy silently filling each with what belonged only to him—his guitar, his clothing—taking nothing that we'd bought together. He left it all for me.

I remember sitting there, silently watching as he loaded his last box into the truck parked outside before slowly turning to walk back inside as it drove off to wherever he was living now.

He walked into the living room, standing in front of me as I stared through him, the tears cascading down my face. He tried handing me my key, but I was unmoving; frozen to the spot I stood at, my eyes concentrated on the floor. Finally realizing that I wasn't going to take it back—that I wasn't going to accept his leaving, he set it on the end table beside us, the silver metal glinting in the sunlight, a cold reminder of the gravity of it all.

As he spoke to me, saying that he was sorry, but that it was for the best, I couldn't speak. There was nothing I could say that would make him stay, and I was completely dazed, not believing that this was happening to me—that my perfect life was falling apart at the seams.

_I take a shower  
I will scour  
I will roam  
_

Stepping out of the shower, I shook my head, trying to clear the foggy remnants of those horrible memories from my head. Wiping the steam off of the mirror, I looked blindly at myself, not really seeing my reflection in the mirror, just the blank expression, the haunted eyes gazing back into mine.

As I picked up the white monogrammed towel from the bar next to the shower, I slowly dried the remaining droplets of water from my body before wrapping the soft cotton around my torso. I opened the door, stepping slowly out of the steam filled room, into the cool open hotel room before me.

I'd never worked up the courage to go back. I just couldn't face the empty condo without him in it, all of his things gone as if he'd never been there.

If I go back, I feel like I'm saying it's over, for good. So I stay here, living in a hotel a few blocks from the studios.

_Find peace of mind  
The happy mind  
I once owned, yeah  
_

A knock on the door shook me out of my thoughts, and I hurried across the room to open it, trading my towel for a robe along the way.

"Sadie!" I said, flinging the door open, trying to mask the disappointment in my voice. For some reason, I still hoped every time someone knocked on the door, that he'd be on the other side when I opened the door. But every time without fail, I was let down.

"Oh Jude," She said, pulling me into a hug as she walked into the suite, her face full of sadness, "It's time to move on sweetie—you've got to stop letting him make you feel like this."

Pulling roughly from her embrace, I ignored her comment, striding angrily across the room toward the sofa, pausing along the way to grab an open bottle of wine, and the glass next to it, sloppily filling it to the top as I settled on the couch. Doing my best to ignore her as she made her way over to sit next to me, I picked up the remote, flipping the channels until I landed on a rerun of Saturday Night live, ironically hosted by Tommy when he was big with BoyzAttack.

"Jude," Sadie whispered softly, with the same pitying tone as before, pleading with me to talk with her.

As she grabbed for the remote, trying to change the channel as she saw what was on, I yanked it away from her.

"Just stop, Sadie," I sighed, staring blankly at the screen.

This is why I hated having visitors, and hated going to work. All I'd ever get where these little lectures from people—'Jude it's time to move on,' or 'We're really worried about you Jude.'

I was sick of hearing from all these people—all my friends, who were in their perfect relationships. Sadie and Kwest were married, along with Jamie and Patsy. What right do they have to tell me how I should feel—this would never happen to them.

I don't want to hear about how much they miss the old Jude—the carefree, happy girl who loved music, and loved everything about recording and touring. Couldn't they see that I missed my old self just as much? That I wished I hadn't changed—that Tommy and I hadn't fallen apart?

I'd give anything to have that carefree girl back—the naïve one that was so in love. But that's not happening, no matter how much I pray for it.

_  
Flexing vocabulary runs right through me  
The alphabet runs right from A to Z  
Conversations, hesitations in my mind  
You got my conscience asking questions that I can't find  
_

Being at G-major, having to record was pure torture—my personal hell.

Darius insisted that Tommy and I carry out the contract we had with him—two more albums had to be produced by Tommy, and even with everything that happened, he wouldn't budge. The only concession he did make, was to release Karma after her album only recorded mediocre numbers. She wasn't the worst artist on the label, but over the years, D had grown to be one of my biggest supporters, and after what had happened with her and Tommy, her head was on the chopping block.

With her gone, I was the only artist Tommy was working with. Darius was angry with him as well, but knew that he turned out my best work, and pushed me to do better. So we were stuck for at least two more years.

Everything changed. I couldn't write anymore, I couldn't share all my emotions, how much Tommy had hurt me, and how much I blamed myself with him. I couldn't let him hear or read everything I felt when I was around him. I thought it would drive him away for good if he knew everything I felt.

My music turned into more of the manufactured pop Tommy hated, but he never commented on it, he didn't seem to care anymore about my reputation as an artist. He worked with the songwriting teams, pushed the buttons, and helped Kwest mix the final product. Other than the occasional order to sing a verse again, he said nothing about my music.

We never stayed late at the studio, or went for a late dinner or coffee. We tried our best to get out of there as fast as possible, and my music did suffer. Instead of perfecting every verse, every line, every note as we had before, both of us just cared about getting it good enough to pass Darius' standards.

The only thing that didn't change, was that there was always a Venti Vanilla Latte sitting on my chair when I came in to record every morning.

_I'm not crazy_

_I'm sure I ain't done nothin' wrong, no  
I'm just waiting  
Cause I heard that this feeling won't last that long  
_

The morning after a particularly awful session, I walked into the recording booth, and immediately noticed something was off.

Tommy wasn't there already, and the latte that normally sat in the center of my stool had been replaced by a neatly folded piece of paper, Tom's heavy black writing visible on the opposite side.

Knowing it would be bad, I stood there in the doorway, staring at it, not wanting to pick it up, and read the inevitable let down.

Had he left? I know Karma had offered him a position as her producer at her new label a few weeks ago, but I never imagined he'd take her up on the offer. I couldn't believe that what they had would be more to him that what we'd shared—that he'd leave me a second time, again abandoning me for her.

So I stood there, leaning against the door frame, slowly sliding down until my body touched the floor. Sitting there, I stared down at my feet, trying to calm myself, willing myself not to cry, not even noticing the time that had gone by until I was interrupted by a voice above me.

"Hey," Tommy said softly, his voice startling me.

I refused to look up, knowing just seeing him would make me break down, shatter all of the defenses I'd tried to put up. I sat there, silent, a solitary tear escaping my eye, tracing a trail slowly down my face until it dropped to the floor, dreading the words that would come next—telling me that he was leaving me forever, and I'd never see him again.

Sensing my refusal to talk, Tom took a deep breath, pausing for a moment before speaking again, his voice thick with emotion.

"Look, Jude," he said, his voice cracking as he spoke, "We need to talk. This isn't working—we're not getting anything done. I know you're better than this, and I don't think there's any other way—"

"Stop trying to make it seem like you're doing this for me," I said sharply, cutting him off, trying to keep him from noticing the tears rolling down my face in a steady stream, "You don't really think I'm deaf do you? I've heard about the proposition you received, and I knew you'd be coming to leave me again sooner or later to run to her."

Pausing, I turned my face, glancing upwards at him, surprised by the confused look on his face.

"It is about Karma," I continued uncertainly, my eyes searching his, trying to find some recognition in them but he continued to look at me in the same uncertain manner, "I know you had a job offer from her Tommy, I heard Kwest and Sadie talking about it the other night. You're leaving G-Major to work with her, Aren't you?"

As my voice trailed off, a look of sadness swept over Tommy's face, his eyes softening as he looked at me, sliding down to sit across from me, leaning against the other side of the door frame, his legs almost touching mine.

"I'd never do that," He said seriously, and amazingly, I believed him.

"I don't care about Karma, Jude—I could care less if she offered me my own label to produce her—I wouldn't do that to you," he continued, not bothering to stop as I tried to interrupt him, "I wanted to come here, to tell you that I'd be willing to pay Darius a fee to break my contract on your album, so that you could work with someone you wanted to, and you'd have a chance to make great music again. Us working together isn't working, and it shouldn't be something you should have to deal with."

_I'll keep searching  
Deep within my soul  
For all the answers  
Don't want to hurt no more  
_

I sat there, my legs dangling off of the edge of the pier, tears dropping into the water below me.

I'd left without giving him a response, and gone down to the harbor to think about everything, someplace I could be by myself, and no one would think to look.

As I stared out at the ships on the lake, I began to realize that I needed to make changes. I needed to take everyone's advice, and move on. I could still think about, and ask myself why everything had happened, but I needed to stop dwelling on the past.

I didn't need Tommy to quit as my producer to make good music, I just needed to let go of everything—my worries that he wouldn't like me once he heard how I felt, that I ever had a chance for our relationship to be what it was.

We were over, he'd made that clear, and I needed to accept that no matter how hard I wished we could, we'd never have more than a working relationship. I needed to be happy with that, and that some semblance of what we'd had could stay alive.

Standing up, I walked to my car, and instead of returning to G-Major I went back to my suite at the hotel to pack my bags. Glancing around the room one last time as I shut the door, I smiled, happy that I was finally trying to move on.

_I need peace  
Got to feel at ease  
Need to be free from pain  
_

I began writing that night, sitting in our bed for the first time in months, the sheets still smelling of him. His shirt, one he'd missed since it had been in my dirty laundry, hung loosely about my thin frame.

I'd found my old outlet again, a way to let my feelings out once more. It had been so long since I'd sat there with a pen and notebook in front of me, my guitar in my lap, coaxing the chords and the words to appear.

As I began to work, quickly shaking off the rust, the words began to pour out, filling page after page with verses, choruses, entire songs about everything I'd gone through over the past few months.

_Go insane  
My heart aches, yeah  
_

As I wrote, I relived every moment, every excruciating word that was spoken, every look Tommy and I had shared, from the beginning of our relationship, to our conversations yesterday, and the epiphany I'd had at the docks.

I remembered the feeling of his lips on mine after my sweet sixteen, almost laughing as I thought back on how my young teenage self had thought him asking me to forget was the worst he could ever do to me.

I saw the reflection of the sparklers in his eyes as we counted down to midnight on New Year's Eve, and then the gleam of the diamond he'd pulled out of his pocket as we kissed.

And I heard the moans, the skin on skin, the sounds of his infidelity that night in the studios.

It hurt, in all honesty. More than it had before, because I'd never allowed myself to think back on the beginning, the times that it was so wonderful and new, and nothing was in our way.

My heart broke with every stroke of my fingers across the guitar strings, but I knew that if I kept going, if I kept letting it break, it would eventually be over—there'd be nothing left to shatter.

Then I could work on putting the pieces back together, and finally being happy again.

_  
Never ever have I ever felt so low  
When you gonna take me out of this black hole  
Never ever have I ever felt so sad  
The way I'm feeling, yeah, you got me feeling really bad  
_

As I sang softly, the words pouring out as I fought back tears, I knew I'd found the solution.

After writing everything, I returned to G-Major two days later, my guitar case on my back and four notebooks full of completed songs in my arms. Not bothering to knock, I strode into Tommy's office, taking note of the disarray, so unlike the beaten man sitting behind the desk—normally everything was spotless, from the pencils in his desk organizer, to the perfectly straight framed albums on the wall.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily," I said, slamming the heavy leather-bound books down on his desk, almost laughing at the confused look on his face, "You don't have to stop producing me to make good music, I just needed to get over everything, and get my head out of my ass."

Seeing a weary smile cross his face, I turned from the room, his voice following me as I turned the corner toward Studio A.

"Darius wasn't going to let me pay out anyway," He called, hurrying after me.

"I know," I said smartly, "Why do you think I went home and wrote for the first time in months? I'm not about to lose my contract because we're making horrible music, I love this too much."

_Never ever have I had to find  
I've had to dig a way to find my own piece of mind  
_

As the last few lyrics came from my mouth, I realized that it was all going to be okay, that I'd settled with my demons, and knew there was nothing more I could do. I needed to move on, stop blaming myself and be happy.

I finally knew that I couldn't change what had happened, and all I could do was to move on, and not let those mistakes happen again. I might never know exactly what made Tom do what he did, but I would never treat someone I loved the way I had treated him in the year before our break up. I'd made him feel like his opinion didn't matter, like he didn't matter, and I'd ignored him just so I could go off and boost album sales.

Looking back, all that money from those concerts, and the albums they'd helped sell wasn't worth driving him away from me.

_I've never ever had my conscience to fight  
The way I'm feeling, yeah, it just don't feel right  
_  
"Jude," Tommy said into the microphone after he stopped the recording, his thick voice breaking the silence, "It was never you--don't ever think that."

Looking up at him through heavy lashes, wiping desperately at my tear stained cheeks, I fell apart as I saw the heartfelt, broken look on his face, all thoughts of forgetting my need for answers fleeing my mind.

"Why then?" I begged, my voice hoarse, "Why did you leave me if I didn't do anything wrong?"

Pausing for a moment, my eyes searching his, looking for some answer, some indication of what it was that had caused our lives to crumble apart. Seeing nothing but hesitation and regret, I continued on, softly at first, my voice calm, but quickly moving into hysterics.

"I pushed you away, I abandoned you. I made you feel like you didn't matter, Tommy," I sobbed, my voice breaking as I stared down at the floor, avoiding his gaze, "Tell me how this all isn't my fault. You wouldn't have cheated if it hadn't been for me!"

"You didn't abandon me Jude," He said, suddenly beside me, his hands on my arms, "If anything, I abandoned you. I knew what your life would be like when I fell in love with you—I lived it when I was an artist. I knew you would be away, and I made the choice to be okay with that. You didn't do anything wrong."

As he paused to collect his thoughts, I became acutely aware of his thumbs, soothingly stroking my arms, trying to calm my sobs.

"Me cheating on you—you aren't to blame for that," Tommy continued softly, lifting my chin with his left hand, gently forcing me to look at him again, "You might have changed, but I should have told you, I should have let you know how I felt. Being unhappy with how things were going was no excuse for me to betray you like that Jude. I left because you're better off without me, you're better off without someone who doesn't treat you as well as you deserve to be treated."

"You're right about some of that," I said simply, lacing my fingers between his, "but you're wrong when you say I'm better off without you. I betrayed you too, when I sold out to Darius. I knew how you felt about that, and I did it anyway, just to get a few numbers up on the charts."

"No," I said, cutting him off as he began to protest, "These past few months have been miserable. It's hard being alone—not having you there to help me when I'm feeling down. I'm learning, and I'm better than I've been in months, but I miss you Tommy, I always will."

"You broke me," I said softly, finally looking away from his watery eyes, "Not when you cheated—that hurt, but I could have forgiven it. But when you wouldn't listen—when you wouldn't stay, it made me feel like you didn't want to try, that you didn't love me enough to try to get back what we had."

"That was never it, Jude," he said softly, his face inches from mine, "I loved you so much—I still do. It hurts each day to walk in and see how sad you are. But I keep doing it because I love you, and I don't want to lose you."

Raising my face, our lips almost touching, I looked at him, smiling softly as I whispered, "You'll never lose me Tommy."

As his lips brushed mine, and I sunk into his arms, I felt whole again, happier than I'd been in a long time. It was a new beginning, I thought as we broke apart, grins on our faces. We'd both learned from the mistakes we'd made, and they had made us stronger people, and amazingly, given us a second chance.

_Fin_


End file.
